The adventures of a first year teacher.

04/19/2011

I have been cleaning out my apartment recently. It is surprising the things you find when you start cleaning. This reminds me of when I moved here in July.

First things first, realize that I filled my car, a full size Yukon, AND the biggest U-Haul trailer that is offered that isn’t a truck. On the day I moved, several people came to help me move. We packed everything into the vehicles and trailer. Both vehicles were full to the max, along with the trailer. The trailer was so full that we had to leave out my TV stand and a few kitchen chairs. If there was ever a point in my life that I questioned having too much stuff, this was it.

My parents left with the trailer and we stayed to finish cleaning the apartment. At 10:30 PM, I finally got to Aberdeen. I was excited to arrive, but not as excited when I opened the door to the apartment. Upon arrival, we realized that the apartment was a blazing 80 degrees. So, off to Walmart we went for a better air conditioner. Relief washed over us as we found one! So, at 11:00 PM, my dad and I installed my new air conditioner. PS: We also had to buy a drill. As we worked on installing the AC, we heard an unusual noise. I looked at my dad and said, “Did that sound like a gunshot to you?” He said, “You know, I think it did.” So we looked out the window but there was nothing to see. Nothing says welcome to your new town like the sound of a gunshot!

We finally got the new air conditioner installed so it was livable in my new apartment. We went to bed with thoughts of the next day looming in our heads. The next morning, we woke up bright and early so we could do what my family always does, go out to eat. We arrived at I-hop just in time for morning brunch. We began to dread the shear amount of “stuff” that we would have to lug up three flights of stairs. Between the four of us, Jason’s roommate, and a little help from a neighbor, we got everything moved in.

Now that everything was moved in, the question was what next? Surrounded by furniture and boxes stacks upon boxes, I had to decide what to unpack first. Jason and my parents left and so the silence set in. Once I finally stopped living out of boxes, my apartment started to feel like home.

04/09/2011

It was a scorching hot summer day in June with my cousins on the farm. As always, we were at my grandparents’ house and we were looking for something to occupy our time. Rollerblading seemed like an entertaining idea, so we started to get our gear on. Michael and Scott were with me and Brian was inside with my grandparents.

To set the scene, there are three doors to my grandparents’ house. The porch door is the one we use, the middle door is for guests, and the door on the right is the garage door. There is sidewalk from the porch door all the way to the garage. In front of the garage is a large cement pad that we race on towards the garage. The garage door has several large windows, at the perfect height for eleven year olds to use as a stopping point. Those annoying brakes never work anyway. Remember the ones that eleven year olds never really learn how to use? (Okay, maybe that’s just me) Before going outside, I didn’t have any socks, and I didn’t want to walk the 100 feet to my house to find my own. I had my knee pads, elbow pads, and wrist guards ready to go. I decided to wear only the knee pads, as I didn’t really like wearing the other two and I really didn’t need them anyway.

A race, three preteens, and a copious amount of energy: recipe for disaster? As we had so many other times before, we made our way out to the sidewalk. Michael and I prepared for the big race. The younger cousin, Scott, was to determine the winner. As Scott stood on the sidelines, Michael and I took our racing positions. The big tree at the end of the cement pad was the starting point. Scott was standing in the grass next to the garage door. We started the race and I felt confident. I am clearly winning, when Michael wimped out and turned into the grass. I won! I passed the pillar, so I was clearly the winner. Of course, I hadn’t braked, because those didn’t work efficiently. Five feet rested between me and the garage door. I reached out to stop myself like I had one hundred times before. As I slammed into the garage door, something unexpected happened. The window broke and the glass shattered everywhere. In the moment, I had no idea what had just happened. My wrist, with no wrist guard protection, went through the window. A natural human reaction occurred and I pulled my wrist away from the shattering glass. As I pulled my wrist out of what used to be the window, I flipped it over to examine it. I promptly turned it back over and started rollerblading to the middle door. At this point, all chaos had broken loose. Scott was motionless by the porch door, aside from the scream that sounded much like a 13 year old girl’s. Michael had already taken flight, rollerblades and all, behind the house. I got the impression he wasn’t fond of blood. As the responsible one, I rang the doorbell about 12 times. As my grandfather answered the door, he began to yell, “What is all the noise out here?!?!!” He looked down at me and then told me to go to the other door. He met me at the other door. As I started to walk in, he said, “Stop! You’ll get blood on the carpet.” As I stood in dismay and confusion, in my eleven year old mind I said to myself, “Really grandpa? I could pass out or die or fall over, and all you’re worried about is your stinkin’ carpet?” So, I continued to stand on my rollerblades and took one more glance at my wrist. I really didn’t like what I saw, so I decided to stop looking at it.

Within a few minutes, my grandma, grandpa, and I were crammed into the ancient white pickup we liked to call “Whitey.” (A very creative name, I know!) At a speedy 50 miles per hour, we were on our way to the emergency room. To give you a visual, I was still wearing my rollerblades and knee pads. My grandma had grabbed a towel to do a tourniquet. She was a teacher for many years, so she had first aid training. My grandpa was driving, my grandma was sitting in the middle seat, and I was on the right. Thankfully on the right side of whitey, there is a convenient hole that I like to call the litter hole. If ever you had trash and you weren’t sure what to do with it, there was a hole in the floor, tada! We never littered, but I thought it was quite funny that there was a hole in the floor of the vehicle. All I could think about was those stupid knee pads. It was scorching hot and whitey conveniently does not have air conditioning. I kept asking my grandma to take them off, but she said not to worry about them. (Of course she had to think about the timing of the tourniquet)

By the time we reached the nearest town with an emergency room (about 25 minutes later), the bleeding had stopped. I walked into the emergency room with no shoes, since I had been wearing rollerblades. We waited for a short time and then I went into a quiet room. A nurse came in who was helpful and gentle. When there is a gaping hole in your wrist, you definitely want someone who is gentle. He started numbing up my wound. As soon as he finished, a few people came into the room. They asked me to recount the story of the accident. Each person that came into the room said, “Oh my!” or “I’ve never seen anything like it!” or similar comments. There were probably at least five people that came in and made comments like these. I was slightly alarmed that I was being treated like a circus animal and not a patient. Soon enough, a doctor came in and directed us to a different, more experienced hospital (go figure.)

My parents had arrived by this time, so we hopped into the good ole’ park avenue and off we went. Every bump and turn was painful. The amazing numbing medicine was beginning to wear off. We arrived at the emergency room and had a wait in front of us. When the doctor walked in, I had to blink a few times. He was wearing a bright orange suit. I was a little confused. Was this a hospital or a circus? My doctor’s name was Patrick and he was the coolest doctor I’ve ever met. He started to talk about skin grafting. He explained the whole process and what would need to happen in between now and the surgery. For a whole week, my mom would have to bandage my wrist for me and clean the wound. (OUCH!) I still refused to look at the wound. When I did sneak a peak, I saw everything that you really shouldn’t see when you look at your arm. For those with weak stomachs, I won’t go into more details.

Once we finished at the hospital, we did what my family always does. We went out to eat. The most exciting part of every trip was lunch. We had to stop at a store to get some socks before we could go to Denny’s. I still didn’t have shoes, but the store didn’t have many options. At Denny’s, I ordered a milkshake, of course. A week later, I went in for surgery. When I came back to my grandparents’ house, my little cousin, Brian, told me a few words of wisdom. He said, “I keep my blood on the inside.” Thanks, Brian, thanks. Luckily, there was no permanent damage to my nerves, arteries, or tendons. I would like to point out that without the help and quick actions by my grandparents, I might not be here today. So, thanks for saving my life... :) Now, all I have to show for this is a weird burn-looking scar and an extremely odd story.

There it is! This is from today. It's a poor quality picture but you get the idea.

I recently went on a trip to Fargo, ND. On Friday, I was minding my own business at school when my coworker, Jenny, walked up to me. First she asked me, "Do you know who Lincoln Brewster is?" I didn't, but after a short discussion, it was decided that I would go on a plane trip with her to Fargo the next day for a concert! I was very excited because I have only been on one plane before.

During my previous experience, I went in an open cockpit plane at a museum in Texas. I was in High School and I had never been on a plane before. To preface the plane ride, my parents and I went out to eat. I had meatloaf. Let me just point out that eating meatloaf at a no-name restaurant in Texas might not have been the smartest thing I've ever done.

We get to the museum and I am all ready to go. The plane takes off with just the pilot and I. It was a great time, until the last few minutes. I started to feel very sick. I kept telling myself, "ok, you can make it..." I imagined what might have happened if I didn't make it. (open cockpit plane) Anyway, we FINALLY landed. I jumped off the plane as quickly as that can be done and promptly was sick. We went to the store and got some things and I felt fine. We went back to our hotel and I decided to eat some pizza. I spent the rest of the night running from the couch to the bathroom because, apparently that no-name meatloaf wasn't such a great idea. So, needless to say, I was a little nervous about another plane trip.

On this plane trip, we had a six seater plane, which is a slightly scary concept. We got in the plane and I decided riding backwards would not be the best idea. We started rolling and eventually took off. Once I stopped holding my breath, I realized that I felt fine. I started looking out the window at all the snow, water, and houses. An hour later (which really felt like five minutes) we arrived in Fargo, ND. As soon as we arrived in Fargo, we got to a restaurant called "Spitfire." There was a spicy meter on the menu. I ended up having soup and salad. Their chicken tortilla soup was not nearly as impressive as Max & Ermas, but it was still pretty yummy. Next, we had to decide where to go before the concert. We ended up going to the mall, but only had about 20 minutes. When we left the mall, we loaded into an adorable mini van and we were off!

We arrived at the concert. This was definitely not my first concert. I have been to more concerts that I can count. We walked in and there was a large line already forming to the doors. We found a shorter line of people at another door and decided to stay there. Finally, the boy guarding the door (Yes, boy, it was a Christian concert so what do you expect?) let us in. We started to file in when someone yelled, "Who told you to open that door?" The boy looked rather embarrassed and within a minute they decided to let us in anyway. I looked over and people were running to their seats. When we arrived at our 2nd row seats, I had to awkwardly save seats. Maybe you've never had this experience, but when you try to save a spot at a concert, people usually look at you with a not so polite look. I have had this experience quite a few times. So, if you're the person making me hold the seat, you could at least go a little faster so this awkward moment can pass. I didn't get too many impolite stares this time, but I still felt awkward. A lady walked up and started asking about the seats in front of me. She NEEDED five seats and there were only four. If you were paying attention, you would know that the seats in front of me were in the front row. So, maybe you're being a little picky if you can't get your front row seats perfectly together and you didn't get there soon enough. Anyway, I suggested that maybe people could move down. She said, "That would be great, but they aren't doing that." About three seconds later everyone in the row moved down. So the lady could have her five perfect seats in the front row.

I realized that I was sitting directly in front of the speaker. As I started wishing that I had earplugs, two guys from the local radio station went up on stage. Then I realized something. The speakers weren't turned up to "blow your eardrums out" volume. Since this concert was in a church and it wasn't like more rock/secular concerts, there wasn't a big problem with sitting right in front of the speaker. Crisis averted. The two guys started thanking everyone for coming and then they made a comment about how it pays to sign up for drawings. At first, I was thinking, what drawing? The guys pulled out some cds and called up a guy and a girl to the stage. Next, they handed the guy a microphone. I thought that this was a little odd. Usually, they would give you the cds and you'd walk off to your respective seats. The two guys from the radio were asking him if he knew the artists and if he was excited to get the cd. An awkward amount of time had passed and it was time for the guy to go back to his seat. He still had the microphone, and I'm sure everyone was starting to feel like this was excessive. He then said, "I bet you're wondering they gave me a microphone and we're just here because we won cds." Everyone is probably thinking the same thing "YES! Please go sit down.This is getting awkward." He turns to his girlfriend and starts talking to her. As soon as he made the comment "I bet you're wondering why they gave me a microphone" I had it figured out. He got down on one knee in front of the huge crowd and the girl's eyes went wide. He proposed and she said yes almost before he finished asking! Everyone then said the obligatory "aww" and we moved on with our lives. It was cute, but I was ready to hear some live music!

My favorite part of the evening was when Lincoln Brewster told about his kids' star wars birthday party. The end of the evening was fairly uneventful. We went back to the airport, drank some delicious hot cocoa, and got back on the plane. The plane ride was turbulent on the way back, but it was a great day overall. "You must, you must think I'm strong"- Matthew West

This is Lincoln Brewster handing a CD to someone. He is so awesome! I don't think I could get Jason to have this hair, though.